


A Lust Object

by fyredancer



Series: Object Fixation [3]
Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Kink, M/M, Object Insertion, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:25:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"We don't have to do it again." "...maybe I'm confused."</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Tom and Bill have said in interviews that they share everything; but after the night Tom walked in on Bill, it's in a very physical sense, as well. As things progress between them, though, Tom may discover sharing everything with Bill has repercussions he's not prepared to tolerate without a fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. just give me sex whenever I want it...

The first impression permeating Bill's conscious mind was that he was warm and sated, as he drifted from sleep to that fuzzy in-between state between the depth of pleasant dreams and a true waking. It was an utter contentment the likes of which he hadn't experienced in years, and it was that more than anything caused Bill to twitch where he lay, his eyes snapping open.

He huffed a soft, startled breath through his nose as he realized at once that he wasn't in bed alone, but it wasn't like any of the times he'd woken after sneaking into Tom's bed, or the few times Tom had stumbled in drunk after one too many rounds at the club and passed out half-atop Bill. For one thing, a great deal more nudity was involved. As Bill stirred in the sheets that were wound tightly around his body, he realized he wasn't wearing anything, not even the boxers he typically wore to bed. He was also staring at Tom's arm laying right on his pillow, mere centimeters from his lips.

A naked arm.

Bill blinked at the curve of a bare tricep beside him, following the line of naked flesh along a slender cord of tendon up to the familiar curve of a jaw, tumbled pile of dreadlocks half-obscuring the face snuggled into the pillow beside his. It was like the sight of that arm before his eyes symbolized the drastic span by which all that Bill had known was changed.

_Oh god oh god oh god,_ went through Bill's head like a fervent mantra, though he'd never believed and wasn't about to start praying his way out of predicaments now.

He untangled himself from the sheets by increments, his body hot all over – but especially his face. Bill pattered over to the bathroom on hurried feet, on his way to the toilet when he had to stop and look at himself in the mirror.

"Oh," Bill murmured, riveted by how flushed and heavy-lidded he looked. He was vibrant and pink-cheeked and, at least to his own eyes, appeared to be relaxed and exhilarated. "Oh, wow."

This was what 'well-fucked' looked like, he knew. He'd seen it on Tom often enough to know, and now he was seeing a different version of that same ecstatic aftermath on his own face. He bit his lip and grinned at himself.

He looked good, he decided; screw anybody who'd tell him he shouldn't ought to. They didn't have to know.

After using the toilet but not toggling the handle, for fear of waking Tom, Bill returned to the warmed cocoon of sheets he'd inhabited side by side with his naked twin. He hesitated before lifting the sheet and crawling back in beside him. Who was to say Tom would be as unrepentant as he was?

Tom stirred as Bill returned to his position beside him, and murmured something incoherent as Bill's leg touched his beneath the sheets. Tom had slept on his stomach, and was bare all the way down, naked in a way Bill had rarely seen him, not since they were kids still taking baths together.

As he should be, Bill reflected, considering all they had done together.

His face flamed hot of its own accord as Bill recalled how Tom had walked in on him, a humiliating circumstance given what Bill had been doing at the time. Resorting to household objects instead of the dildos or vibrators that would provide him the satisfaction of penetration, Bill had been using a stripped brush to stimulate himself. Rather than being fazed in the least, Tom had offered his services – and Bill had mistaken it for greater intimacy.

Of course, Tom had simply meant he could buy Bill whatever vibrators he wanted. Bill bit at his lip, embarrassed all over again that he'd misread Tom's offer. As it turned out, though, Tom hadn't needed any encouragement whatsoever to decide that the brush handle Bill had been using was rather...inadequate. They'd both found the real thing to be a great deal more satisfying.

So much so, in fact, that they'd repeated the act twice more before collapsing into an exhausted heap together.

Tom would make a good boyfriend, Bill mused, twisting a lock of dark hair between his fingers as he regarded Tom's sleeping face. He'd gotten up each time to grab a towel to clean them up, and offered to get Bill whatever he wanted from the mini-fridge.

It had been great, the best first time that Bill could ever ask for, but part of him was worried about the aftermath due when Tom woke. How could they cross that line, and go back to being normal, if extraordinarily close, twins?

At the same time, Bill was sure that plain old household objects were never going to satisfy his itch again.

"Tomi," he murmured, and folded himself against his pillow in a sleeping posture when Tom's nose twitched. He regarded Tom through slitted eyes, at last stretching a hand forth to flick Tom's nose with one painted fingernail.

"Prick," Tom mumbled, pawing at his own face.

Bill pressed his face against his pillow to smother a giggle, then peeked over at Tom with one eye.

"Is it morning?" Tom wondered aloud, blinking sleepy brown eyes.

Bill didn't want to roll around to check the bedside clock again, but he knew it was early enough that no one had come knocking. That was another consideration; they would have to be dressed and decent before anyone came to their room.

Tom yawned in his face. "This bed smells like sex," he said.

"It does," Bill agreed, hit with a brief stab of doubt. If Tom had been drinking last night – Bill didn't think he had, too much – then would he use it as an excuse to play dumb? "We, um..."

Tom's eyes widened and he sucked in a quick breath. " _We_ had sex," he said, in a hushed voice. "I didn't dream it?"

Bill's mouth dropped open. "You dream about it?"

Heaving the bedclothes up, Tom rolled over and propped himself over Bill. Something hard poked Bill in the belly, making him squeak and want to cover his face all over again; he had never been laid bare to such an extent before Tom. Tom, who was on top of him now, every naked part of him, hands to either side of Bill's face as he stared down intently into his eyes.

"You don't?" Tom asked him, his voice low and hoarse to the point that Bill's eyes fluttered shut. He eased over Bill, their thighs and bellies pressing together, his rigid cock nestled intimately beside Bill's dick, which was swelling rapidly with the presence of Tom atop him. They weren't even grinding; Tom was _on_ him, and it was making him hard.

"I, uh..." Bill's words failed him.

Tom dipped his head, catching Bill's lips open and molding them beneath his, sparking hot sensation in Bill's stomach and a delicious, shivery pleasure that spread all through him. It reminded Bill with the simple slant of Tom's mouth, tongues sliding together, of how they had been joined the night before as Tom rocked into him with such superbly satisfying thrusts. They had kissed then, too, as Bill had cried out and clawed at Tom's back and dreadlocks and begged him to go harder, faster, make him come better than anything else in his life. Bill was panting already as Tom rubbed his mouth against Bill's before drawing back.

"Shit," Tom said, "be right back." He stumbled out of bed, bare-arse naked and heading for the bathroom.

"Oh god," Bill said it aloud, making Tom flash a mischievous grin over his shoulder. That same shaken mantra went through his head again, supplanting anything coherent. _Oh god, oh god, oh god._ He remained brainless as he listened to the remarkably mundane sounds of Tom puttering around in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, flushing the toilet.

Tom returned and Bill's eyes flew open as the bed dipped beneath his weight.

Bill rubbed at his brow, tugging the sheets around his waist.

"You okay?" Tom asked him, his face open and earnest in the morning light that seeped through the curtains Bill had drawn the night before. Only the palest strip fought its way through a chink between the heavy drapes, but it sought out Tom, who moved everywhere alight so far as Bill was concerned.

"I don't know," Bill replied, honest as those matter of fact brown eyes moving over his body, roaming up his bare chest and settling on his face. _You're not gay,_ he wanted to accuse Tom, but last night their bodies had moved as two magnets, inextricable and unable to remain apart for long. Bill didn't have to tease Tom for compliments on his performance to know how satisfying it had been for both of them, regardless of Tom's orientation. Sex was good, Tom had often told him, good no matter what; even better with someone who loved you, Bill inevitably retorted.

They'd never love someone as much as they loved one another. That was both indisputable truth and tragedy for anyone who tried to become something to either of them.

"We don't have to do it again," Tom said, brown eyes watchful. "I only..."

Bill groaned and half-buried his face in the pillow. "No, that's not what I meant. I just...maybe I'm confused." He was constricted with the thought that Tom might not feel the same as he did; they weren't the same in everything, after all.

Tom inhaled as though Bill had gut-punched him, but sprawled out beside him in the next moment, his eyes intent and his tongue moving over his lower lip.

Bill watched it, close enough to lean forward and lick it if he wanted. Tom had brushed his teeth, so Bill wondered if _he_ wanted.

"We should talk about this," Tom murmured, instead of kissing him.

Bill hauled the sheet up. "Tom," he grumbled, propping his head on his hand. He turned his face away when Tom leaned in close enough to take his mouth.

"We have to talk about it," Tom persisted.

"I don't want to talk about it," Bill whined, fully submerging himself beneath his pillow. He was scared that Tom would say they shouldn't do it again – or worse, that they never should have done it to begin with.

Tom's hand stroked up his side. "Oh," he mumbled, sounding uncertain.

Bill wriggled, dislodging sheet and pulling it down to give more access to Tom's wandering hand. He arched, making a pleased sound to encourage Tom onward. He shifted, making a chain of quiet little noises when Tom continued to pet him, going from ribs to flank and back again, trailing his hand back and forth.

"You like that," Tom said, unnecessarily, and Bill made a low purling sort of sound in his throat. He stretched, pushing his butt up beneath the sheet, which slid down his back low enough to expose him. Tom's hand went lower, his thumb easing into the divot at the base of Bill's spine.

"Mm," Bill murmured, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. He'd always liked Tom's hands on him, and now was more intense than ever before. Tom had played those calloused fingers up Bill's ribs as he'd moved over and into Bill, again and again, and they weren't going to talk about it, and this was so much better.

"We don't have time," Tom said, but he bent to place his lips to Bill's shoulder.

"Mmf," Bill uttered, wiggling his arse where it was pushed up a bit. "Just enough time."

Tom made a low, interested noise that Bill had last heard when he was on Tom's dick.

"I need it again," Bill told him, squirming as Tom pushed him onto his back.

Tom's eyes brightened. "I can give it to you," he said, his voice low and husky.

Bill nodded, folding his legs up to his chest as the eagerness took hold of him. Orgasms were good; they had been few and far between, given his schedule and the fact that he was piled arsehole to elbow in with two smelly boys and one twin who had displayed straight tendencies until getting up on Bill the night before. The prospect of Tom slipping his dick to Bill at every given opportunity was so exciting that Bill was ready to explode on the spot.

He moaned, quiet but anxious, as Tom stroked down below his balls with an avid finger. "Do it," he urged, and yet it was still a surprise when Tom slipped the tip into him. He found himself staring down the length of his skinny body, locking eyes with Tom as his twin petted his thigh, beginning to finger him dry.

"Pass me the lube," Tom told him, and Bill found the squashed tube of lotion they'd used the night before, nearly empty now. He handed it over, his cheeks already hot as he relaxed back into the bedding, anticipating the entry of another long, skilled finger. He wanted everything, Tom riding his cock into Bill in one long thrust, he wanted the waves of pleasure, fast and slow, so achingly wonderfully slow, that would make him cry out and come better than any of his objects of pleasure had managed.

"Nnn," Bill uttered, trying to angle his hips to encourage more of that. He trusted Tom insofar as Tom had had a great deal more sex than he'd managed, but on the other hand, Bill knew his body and he was very in tune with his sudden fixation on cock.

Tom was poised to slide into him when the knock sounded on the door.

"Fuck off!" Bill announced with manic cheer, raising his voice loud enough to hopefully cover the thump as Tom rolled off and away from him, ending up in a heap on the floor at the far side of the bed.

"You need to be packed and ready to go in fifteen minutes, Bill," one of the assistants called to him through his door.

Bill groaned, doing his best to pull the covers up over his head. It was the crack of dawn, he wanted to be penetrated, he'd been on the verge of some very hot sex - and now he had to subsume his desires to his schedule, as usual.

Tom's head poked over the edge of the bed, meerkat-like. "I'd better go," he told Bill.

"You'd better take care of this later," Bill told him like it was a threat, gesturing down his body to where the stiffness of his erection was poking the sheet into the air.

Tom gave him a cheerful grin and an unrepentant tonguing of his lip-ring. "Count on it," he replied, and he was off in a twinkle of bare arse and the mesmerizing sway of long, unfettered dreadlocks. He headed for the door that connected their suites to be subjected to a similar 'wake-up call' on the other side, in his own room.

Bill watched him go, licking his lip for a moment before glaring at the clock as though a single baleful look could stop time, and give them more of it. He hoped that was the closest they'd come to talking about it; Bill had finally discovered the best object to satisfy his need for penetration, after all, and Tom had promised to give it to him as a replacement. The offer had been open-ended, so far as Bill had been able to tell. He already knew, considering the state of his sore arse, that it had been genuinely enthusiastic.

Given all that, though, Bill was sure there was no need to do something so crass as to _talk_ about the arrangement. It was Tom; he would know Bill's needs better than Bill himself.

* * *

Over the next few weeks Bill was tumbled onto his back on a regular basis, and spread for Tom more willingly – and often – than he'd have ever thought possible until that first amazing go. He tended to be bossy and high-handed with Tom, but that was simply because he had enough drive for both of them, and Tom went along with his lead unless there was something Tom wanted.

Now Tom wanted Bill, and Bill proved unable to say 'no' to Tom, on a repeated basis.

That was how they ended up piled into the tour bus bathroom, Tom with two fingers buried in Bill, Bill pressed up against the narrow metal counter that housed the sink, staring past his own flushed reflection at Tom's dark, desirous eyes looming over his shoulder.

"Let me," Tom urged.

"Nnn..." Bill responded, because it was so hard to deny him, especially with those fingers moving and pressing inside him in all the right ways, and Tom hadn't even found Bill's sex spot yet. "No...we can't; they'll hear..."

Tom nudged Bill forward even more, one hand groping under his shirt as he pulled his fingers free with an abruptness that made Bill squeak. He pinned Bill to the sink with the weight of his hips, rocking his clothed cock against Bill's rear in a way that made Bill shudder and drop his head.

All he could think about now was Tom's cock, Tom's cock _in_ him, Tom all around him making him feel good.

"Umm..." Bill stalled, completely unable to think, let alone say no. He could feel the heat of Tom's cock throbbing against him even through two layers of clothing.

Tom took this for a yes, and reached between them. He peeled his shirt up and his boxers down, rubbing his cock against Bill's arse as though he were going to slip it in right there.

Bill's head settled forward, thunking against the mirror as he braced himself in a receptive posture. He wanted all of it, right now and _fast_. "Be quick," was all he could manage, as Tom pressed the tip of his dick against Bill's hole and eased it there in small movements.

There was lube in Tom's pocket, a little bottle he'd used already to slick his fingers up before sticking them in Bill, and he used it again to apply enough to his cock to ease the way. Then he was sliding _into_ Bill, causing Bill's mouth to stretch open wide and he went up on his toes as though he could escape even as Tom held him in place with a hip. A sound began to escape him and Tom clamped his other hand on Bill's open mouth.

They trembled together for a moment, Tom's eyes still hot on Bill's, as Bill panted slowly against Tom's palm while he adjusted to sudden penetration.

Bill tried to nibble on one of Tom's nearest fingers, watching his eyes darken with lust as they stood wedged together in the bathroom and Tom was _in him._ It was like whole universes of sex were opening and expanding before him. They had a door between them and the rest of the world and Tom was fucking him. They could have sex _anywhere._

He breathed in and out to relax and watched Tom stretch his head forward to press a kiss to his ear. Tom's breath ruffled hot on his skin before he licked Bill's ear, making him squeak and squirm. That made them both shudder and before Bill quite knew it Tom was rocking him against the counter in short, tight, _perfect_ lunges.

"Ahh...nnh!" Bill expressed his feelings against Tom's palm, eyes rolling up in the extremity of his pleasure as Tom fucked into him, quick at first, speeding up into a rapid loop of frantic thrusting. He was crammed against the mirror and the counter and held himself up, panting, as Tom shifted his grip on him to seize his hips and really go for it.

Bill was pretty sure he saw a whole galaxy of stars as the angle changed and Tom thrust into him again and again, battering against his most sensitive spot. His cock was wedged almost uncomfortably around the general vicinity of the plumbing and he couldn't even reach for it. He was hyper-aware, though, of when he began to come. His eyes fluttered and he jerked where he was skewered open around Tom's dick; he bit his lip with painful precision to keep from crying out the satisfaction of his orgasm.

Tom pounded into him a few more times, panting into his ear before he eased back into a last set of long, gentle thrusts, a tender outro as he hugged both arms around Bill's waist and plastered sloppy kisses to his neck and ear.

"Fuck...Bill..." Tom muttered against his neck, before he stiffened and buried his cock in Bill, holding himself pressed to his ass.

"Oh...ohh..." Bill murmured, staring at himself in the mirror. There was no way he did not look like he'd just had a major orgasm.

Tom was pulling out, making Bill grimace as his cock slipped free of its warm haven. They'd forgotten to use a condom, again.

"If you give me herpes, I'm killing you. It will be murder-suicide, because I won't live without you," Bill warned.

"Fuck you, I don't have herpes," Tom retorted, reaching for the toilet paper. He wiped at the come that was already trickling from where he'd been buried.

Bill emitted a feeble moan and set his head against the mirror again. He had just come and he was spent, but he was sensitive to the way Tom handled him. If Tom slipped something into him again, he knew, he'd go with it and his body would try to get hard. They hadn't had time like that, the leisure to chase more than one orgasm together, since the first time.

The solid brown eyes that met his in the mirror were dilated, still hungry, and Bill knew that Tom was thinking about it. Putting it in him again, even though they'd barely finished.

A series of heavy thuds jarred the door beside them and they both jumped.

"What the fuck are you doing in there?" Gustav demanded, sounding surly.

Bill called out the first thing that came to mind, terrified as he was with his track pants around his thighs. "Tooth brushing!" Tom gave his crease a last swipe, patted his ass and pulled his pants up, and set his own clothing to rights.

They grabbed at their toothbrushes, jostling elbows, as Gustav muttered, "You guys are so weird."

Bill's eyes met Tom's in the mirror, both sets mirthful. Gustav had no clue as to the extent of it.

As Tom switched on his toothbrush, Bill's belly warmed. _Oh god._ It was an instant shock to the gut, a tightening of his balls. The low buzzing sound was exactly like a discreet vibrator. Tom had offered to help him out with that, at one point, before replacing the object that Bill had been using with his own cock. It had been amazing, and now...

Bill stared at the toothbrush being wielded by Tom's hand, his well-shaped hand with long, strong fingers that had given him so much pleasure. _Oh god._ He'd just had great sex and already his cock was trying to get hard again.

Unbidden, the image of Tom's hand wrapped around that toothbrush surfaced in Bill's mind, only in this vision, Bill was flat on his back with his legs in the air. The toothbrush went in, and that low buzz switched on...

"Bill," Tom said, his mouth skewed in the way that meant he'd had to repeat it. "Bill...grab that deodorant spray on the back of the toilet, yeah?"

"Oh," Bill uttered, giving a guilty start and switching off his own toothbrush. "Right. Because it smells like sex in here."

Tom's fingers nipped affectionately at his waist as they maneuvered around one another in the cramped confines of the bathroom. Bill looked over his shoulder with a mischievous, sated smile, feeling extremely mellow toward his twin right then. Tom had proven capable of giving him such fabulous orgasms. How could he even think of going back to something like a stripped hairbrush or buzzing toothbrush after that?

Tom set his toothbrush aside and cracked the bathroom door open as Bill began to spritz the air to disguise what they'd done. Just because he was unrepentant about it didn't mean he ought to rub Gustav and Georg's noses in it, literally or figuratively.

"Ugh, how can you two _do_ that?" Georg demanded, looming near in the connecting arch that led from the middle space of the bus to the front area, with its seating and kitchenette.

"What?" Tom replied, edgy and defensive.

"Look, I know you guys are twins and you do everything together," Georg said with an expressive eye roll, "but being in there while one of you does a bowel movement? That's nasty."

"Oh," Bill said, setting the deodorant spray to one side. "Eh, well, Tom and I have no secrets and he's been disgusting for years, you know? Besides, I was in there first – he's the one--"

"Some needs can't wait!" Tom cut in. "You take forever in the bathroom, so..."

Georg gave them a pained look. "Okay, but really. You don't have to do _everything_ together. There's a limit, you know?"

Bill exchanged a glance with Tom and they shared a secret smile before shuffling toward the back of the bus. The word 'limit' had never been in their vocabulary, and they were only proving that to be true in this as in the rest of their lives.

* * *

Bill's obsession with phallic objects had been subsumed with a desire for cock. Not just any cock, though, because he was a picky and exacting person. In the same way that he'd been patient and discerning when it came to selecting the perfect object to satisfy his craving for penetration, now he would only accept Tom's cock when it came to satiating his need for a good deep dicking. 

He had known before the shift in their relationship that Tom got horny after shows, but now he was in a direct position to appreciate that fact.

Bill was tipped face down on Tom's bed after a show with his arse raised in the air, whimpering as Tom pressed his cock into him in a long, satisfying glide eased with lube and how wonderfully relaxed he was after Tom's devoted fingering. The image of that buzzing electric brush surfaced in his mind's eye as Tom began to move in shallow, experimental thrusts.

"Ahh...ahhh!" Bill cried out urgently, pistoning his hips against the rucked-up bedspread as he began to come uncontrollably.

"Bill?" Tom questioned, his hands fastened to Bill's hips to keep him in place as he really began to move. "Did you just come?"

"Nnn," Bill moaned, embarrassed and flushed but above all, still hot for it. He wasn't quite going soft, and Tom was still _in_ him, rocking into him with exquisite precision. The depth, the pace, the angle – everything was perfect. Only Tom would ever manage to do him just so, as though he were reading Bill's mind. Bill mentally added it to the list of things that were better because they were twins.

"Can I keep going?" Tom asked him, hauling Bill's arse higher as the steady repeating smack of his pelvis kissing Bill's backside filled the air.

Bill rested his flushed cheek against the rumpled bedspread. "Yes, please," he managed, bracing himself on his head and one shoulder as he reached back to try to spread himself open for Tom.

Tom groaned and pumped into him faster, releasing Bill's waist to cup his hands down around Bill's groin, not touching his cock or balls but setting his hands at his pelvis to hold Bill taut against his body as he drove into him, making them both cry out.

"Yes... _yes!_ " Bill exclaimed, taking his hands away as Tom's replaced them, holding his arse cheeks separated as Tom thrust and thrust again, the sensation blurring inside as he pumped Bill full of his cock. Bill got his arms underneath him again and gripped at the bedspread, pushing back and arching with a luxurious moan as Tom filled him with the most amazing sensations.

Bill was hard, suspended in a state of bliss that he hoped would last forever but knew from a devoted history of orgasms would have to climax eventually, no matter how good he was getting it now. He couldn't stop the desperate noises that tumbled from his lips and he tensed down in fluttering contractions around Tom's cock as though to keep him inside, though it was more an overflow of ecstasy that swept him from cock clear to his arse. He was already mindless with the need to come again

"Yes...yes," Bill said, breathless, as his dick gave a particularly urgent throb. He was sure he would come any second at the fantastic rate Tom was fucking him; yet at the same time he was sure they could go on and on.

Tom went slower just as Bill needed him to go faster. Bill keened and tried to hump backward, but Tom only seized him by the hips and dragged his cock in and out with a tortuously beautiful glide. Bill squirmed and moaned loudly and wantonly enough to express his feelings on that; good and _more,_ because as close to coming as he'd been, this was even better.

He cried out as Tom's balls slapped his ass again and like a shot to start the race, they were off again. Bill pressed his face against the bedspread to try to stifle his moans as Tom drilled into him faster than ever.

"Come," Tom ordered him, one hand leaving Bill's hip to jerk him in a rough but skilled grip.

He was playing Bill like his guitar, the wild thought spasmed through Bill's sex-drugged brain. With a wail, Bill came.

"Nice," Tom murmured appreciatively.

He hauled Bill upright into his lap and Bill let himself be handled, awash in the lazy pleasure of his orgasm. Tom held onto Bill's thighs and bounced upward, slamming into him. A jumbled series of fervent notes emerged from Bill, a fragmented, pornographic private concert, and if Bill weren't already hazed by afterglow he knew he'd have come right then, exceptionally hard.

Tom tipped Bill's face to the side and caught at his mouth. They made out as Tom pushed up into him nice and slow, making Bill ride out the last few thrusts as Tom came inside of him. Bill loved the taste of Tom, the salt contrast of his lip from the sweetness housed inside, and all for him. Tom held his head in place as they kissed, and stroked his starred hip as they rocked together until at last they eased to a stop.

"Ahh," Bill sighed when Tom released his mouth.

They collapsed together in a jumbled puppy pile of limbs.

"We should go to bed," Tom said, licking the corner of Bill's mouth.

"Stupid, we are in bed," Bill returned with a sly-curling smile.

"Mmm," Tom responded, shifting beside him and hooking an arm around his neck. He dabbled his tongue at the hinge of Bill's jaw before latching onto his earlobe.

Bill subsided into a contented pile of Tom-and-Bill, all but purring. "Nnnh..."

Tom planted a quick kiss on his ear. "To sleep," he said.

Bill wrinkled his nose, but a yawn caught him by surprise in the next instant. "Nnn..." he began to protest, but yawned again until his eyes were watering. They had to get up early the next day and pile onto the bus for yet another long stretch on the road.

"We have to get up at the mooncrack of dawn," Tom murmured, nuzzling at his throat.

"Nnnh," Bill noised again, wanting to flip right over and bare his arse for Tom, counting on the strength of his hormones to get up and on him again. He supposed he was tired, though he didn't want to admit it. He raised a wobbly arm. "Carry me."

Tom laughed at him, pushing Bill's wobbly limbs off his own. He rolled off the bed to pad toward the bathroom on his bare feet.

Bill whimpered, making a long arm in his direction after his departure, fingers wiggling. "Tomi..." he half-whined. He sniffled sadly; sometimes that got him his way. After a moment, though, he realized Tom wasn't coming back to carry him bridal-style into the bathroom and he scrambled to his feet.

He joined Tom in the bathroom, the two of them hip to hip, and Bill realized he was in trouble when Tom reached for his electric toothbrush and switched it on.

Bill's knees went weak and he watched, mesmerized, as Tom plied the toothbrush. He wasn't doing anything remotely naughty with it, but simply the confident way he gripped the base as it buzzed enticingly was giving Bill belly-flutters.

He bit his lip, reaching for his own tooth brush.

"Tom," he murmured, locking eyes with his twin in the mirror.

"Mm?" Tom responded, running the rotating bristles over his teeth.

"Wanna go again?" Bill offered, running a hand down his naked hip to linger over the black star. He traced over one of its points with his finger.

Tom's eyes dilated and he set his toothbrush down at once, hooking an arm around Bill's waist. "Back to bed, now," he insisted, his voice low and growling.

That suited Bill more than perfectly fine.


	2. 'cause all I ask for is instant pleasure

Over the next few weeks, the toothbrush seemed to be everywhere. Bill had a new awareness of his brother's dental hygiene because they were all but attached at the hip now, as they had been accused before but never had it been so true. Whenever there was a locked door or the certainty of a stretch of undisturbed time, there was the opportunity for sex.

Bill was rapidly discovering _why_ his twin was so sex-crazed – it was fantastic, absolutely ace, and Tom was a pro at it.

Despite how much sex he was getting, though, Bill couldn't help but bite his lip and be doubly turned on whenever he watched Tom wielding his electric toothbrush. It was becoming an obsession unparalleled, one only equal to his previous furtive fixation on the objects he'd used before Tom had come along and replaced them all with his lovely cock.

Bill felt guilty about it. It was a new, squirmy sensation for him. He wasn't accustomed to the notion of shame. In a way, eyeing up the toothbrush seemed like cheating on Tom, in the convoluted workings of his brain.

Even so, the notion of doing something about his craving did not occur until the night Tom ditched him to go clubbing.

It started out as a polite disagreement that escalated into a screaming fight.

"I want to go out," Tom said. "We haven't been out in ages, and someone's going to talk. You know Dunja keeps telling us they track our every move. They're going to think I'm sick or something."

"I want to stay in while you fuck me into the mattress," Bill countered, ever subtle. "We get little enough time as it is..."

Tom pulled an incredulous look. "We fuck every time our team's backs are turned! If we did it any more often, my dick would be sore. Your _arse_ should be sore--"

"My arse is exactly what I'm concerned about, now," Bill snapped. "If we go out, you won't be getting any of it."

Tom blinked at him. "You can't do that," he objected. "What do you want me to do, pull a groupie?"

That caused a staggering blow to Bill's ego, direct as though Tom had punched him in the solar plexus. For Tom to even contemplate doing that, let alone casting it up to his face, was unbelievable. "I could get any that you wanted, twice as fast, if I could be bothered!" Bill retorted, aware his response wasn't logical at all but he was lashing out to wound, not to debunk any arguments. "The point is, I don't want to go out..."

"So stay in," Tom said, his face beginning to well up with the brick red color they both took on when they got angry or emotional, though on Tom it was far more visible with his infrequent use of foundation. "I want to go out, though--"

"If you're not going to stay in with me, I'll just have to satisfy myself," Bill threatened. It wasn't as though he hadn't contemplated it, every so often. That electric toothbrush of Tom's was becoming ever more alluring perhaps _because_ it was so forbidden.

"Right, I'm sure you've still got that hairbrush kicking around," Tom taunted.

"Fuck you!" Bill screamed, blowing up on the spot.

Insults and punches were the only thing thrown after that point, and Tom ended up slamming out of Bill's room with a last, "Do whatever the fuck you want; you always do, anyhow" that catapulted Bill into a furor of thwarted rage and congested upset. Tom was the one doing as he liked, after all, and Bill wasn't getting what he wanted from the evening in the least.

Bill shed several angry crocodile tears into his pillow, ground his back teeth for a while as he started and failed to send a series of venomous text messages, and penned a few maudlin verses of material into one of his tattered lyric books before throwing it aside. He was angry, frustrated, and worst of all – horny.

It had been so long since he'd had to jerk off that Bill wasn't sure he remembered how anymore. In any spare moment where he would have masturbated in days past, now Tom was beside him telling Bill to let him in, and of course Bill had never said 'no.'

Now _Tom_ was telling him no, and...

Bill's eyes fell on the open door to the bathroom and his breath caught.

Tom had told him 'no' and he was going to be out for hours.

So Bill had a few hours all to himself.

Before, this would have been when he went for his trusty brush handle, and pleasured himself through one or two sensational orgasms. He was pretty sure that Tom had tossed that brush handle after their first night, though - symbolically letting Bill know he would take care of all his orgasms from then on, he supposed.

Yet Tom had declined that honor tonight, and Bill had needs. And Bill had had his eye on Tom's electric toothbrush for longer than he wanted to ponder.

In a flash of jean-clad legs, Bill was up and moving, going for the bathroom. They split all of their things evenly between the two rooms; sex was to be had in Tom's bedroom, cuddling and movie nights in Bill's, and toiletries ended up in Bill's bedroom, usually. Even Bill didn't quite comprehend how it worked, it simply was.

He stood in the bathroom for a moment, fixing his eyes on the two toothbrushes side by side. Was he really going to do this?

Bill's mouth flattened as he recalled the way Tom had not only rejected him, but implied he'd bring a groupie to his hotel room that night. Bill was perfectly capable of providing for his own orgasms, and using something of Tom's was like giving him the double finger. He seized Tom's toothbrush from its holder and stormed back into the bedroom with his usual paraphernalia – towels, lube now instead of lotion.

The search for condoms gave him a brief hold-up, but he found one in a zippered compartment of Tom's suitcase. He spared a miffed thought for the fact that Tom had them, but couldn't be bothered to hunt one up to use on Bill despite the fact that he _knew_ Bill hated 'spotting.' It was an unfortunate after-effect of unprotected coupling and he was trying to break Tom of the habit, at least when they were on a busy schedule.

He shed his clothes, placed everything on the bed, and stood for a moment with his hands on his hips. For the first time since the evening Tom had caught him with the brush, Bill felt truly deviant.

He was, of course, going ahead with it anyhow.

Bill scrambled onto his bed and laid back, sighing out as he spread his legs and bent them at the knee and began to touch himself. He was already getting hard from the prospect of doing something so titillating and kinky to himself.

The angle was bad for fingering himself so he ended up on his side, one knee bent up toward his chest, and wasn't shy about crying out and voicing his pleasure as he pushed first one, then two fingers into his arse. He was impatient for it as always, eager for the pleasure to come and in no mood to linger over the steps of careful prep as Tom did whenever possible.

Angrily, Bill shoved thoughts of Tom from his mind and wiped his fingers off, opening the little condom packet and gazing at the toothbrush a moment before slipping the condom over it.

The condom was too big, of course. It was a shapely toothbrush handle, though, and Bill couldn't help but admire it. His eyes were somewhat starry as he traced over its phallic shape; it had a bit of a rounded head at the end that was flattened at the very base. It was curved for finger-holds, and Bill already knew those ridges would give him some interesting sensations. A single press of the finger would toggle it on, and it would keep going until it was toggled again or the batteries ran out.

Bill bit his lip, toggled it, and squirmed as his dick twitched against his belly.

He didn't let himself think about it anymore; he gripped the toothbrush by the long, thin shaft that supported the rotating head of the brush. He was careful to avoid that part.

He brought it down and behind himself, his eyes half-closing at the simple sensation of something at his entrance. He loved that part; the anticipation, ready for what was to come yet still on the verge.

Bill groaned as he pushed and the base of the toothbrush began to part his little hole.

"Ah...ahh!" he cried out, surprised as it began to slip within and the buzzing was _inside_ of him. It was so intense and surprising that he almost came on the spot. It wasn't only the penetration – he'd had that before. The plastic base of the toothbrush was vibrating inside of him, delivering shockwaves of pleasure from the place it was seated on outward, traveling all through his loins and down the length of his cock and submerging him in an entirely new wave of sexual sensation.

Bill moaned brokenly as he pushed it deeper, not even trying for his spot yet but doing his best to move it in and out, simulating ragged thrusts. He twitched, one leg kicking out as the pleasure intensified the more the handle penetrated. There was more vibration, and his cock was so hard he was sure he'd burst, and when he began to pump it in the bare imitation of thrusts the sensation intensified to the point where he sobbed briefly, writhing on the spot. He wanted to switch it off for an instant, if only to cope with the erotic overload, or pull it out, but it was embedded and his arse was clenching down as possessive as though he were tight around Tom's cock.

Panting, cock twitching against the towel beneath him, Bill began to build up a rhythm, certain he wouldn't last long. This was too good. He'd have time for another, though, if tonight was to be anything like a typical club night for Tom and their bandmates.

Eyes half closed, Bill went from fast, strobing thrusts to a few deep, insistent presses of the handle into his arse as he readied himself to climax.

"Oh, my god," Tom's voice came out of nowhere. "Is that my toothbrush?"

Sweat dampened Bill's brow and he keened low in his throat, releasing a soft but needy wail as Tom came around the foot of the bed. His busily-working hand slipped, pushing the vibrating object inside him to the deepest point, and as he looked helplessly up into Tom's face he began to come. It started at the base of his balls, drawing tight so fast he had no time to ease off. His belly and the towel were spattered with thick globs of come and he laid there tense and apprehensive, wondering what Tom would say.

So he lashed out.

"What are you doing back?" Bill demanded in a blustering tone.

Tom didn't even blink, only prowled closer to him, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside. "Is that my toothbrush?" he repeated, and his tone was darker; low enough to be dangerous.

"Yes," Bill said, stranded somewhere between defiant and sheepish. He added rather gratuitously, "It vibrates."

"I know it vibrates," Tom said. He unbuckled his jeans, now so close to the bed that his legs could touch the mattress. He kept giving Bill that darkly opaque look as he unthreaded his belt from the loops until his jeans bunched down around his thighs. "That doesn't mean you had to stick it up your arse."

"You weren't here; you left me--" Bill began in the injured tones of one righteously wronged.

Tom was shaking his head, his expression so dark that Bill cut off mid-sentence. "I came back because I didn't want to leave things like that," he claimed. He snapped his belt taut between his hands. "I didn't want to leave you unsatisfied."

Bill stared up at him wide-eyed. He was naked, vulnerable, and abruptly terrified that Tom was going to administer a dose of corporal punishment. They'd fought, of course, but the imbalance of power had never been so steeply in Tom's favor.

"Oh, shit," Bill uttered, knowing on some level that he deserved what he had coming to him.

"Turn over," Tom ordered, folding the belt between his hands and tapping it against Bill's knee.

Oh shit, Bill repeated in his head, flopping over with the loose coordination of a spent marionette. He whimpered as his sensitive dick rubbed against the towel and the buzzing toothbrush shifted inside of him. It was ridiculous, the low constant thrum of it as Tom towered menacingly beside him.

"No," Bill complained, even as he positioned himself arse up.

"No?" Tom repeated, low and ominous. "Did I get to say 'no' before my toothbrush was violated?"

"Umm..." Bill dithered. He flinched as the whoosh of air displacement let him know Tom's hand was homing in, but all Tom did was grasp the toothbrush and pull it out in one smooth movement. He switched it off and grabbed one of the towels Bill had placed on the bed, wrapping it and tossing the bundle to the side. That done, he stepped out of his jeans and tore at his t-shirt, dropping it to the side of the bed as he climbed beside Bill.

"You want something in your arse?" Tom asked, voice still low but there was a rougher, almost breathless quality to it.

"Mmmn..." Bill responded, pushing his bottom up toward Tom instead of giving a verbal reply.

A hand descended, delivering a short, sharp swat to one of Bill's arse-cheeks.

Shocked, Bill cried out and tried to crawl away. He was seized around the waist by a hard, wiry arm. Tom spanked him again, doling out five smacks to one cheek, five smacks to the other. Utterly humiliated, Bill struggled and kicked out and sobbed tearlessly, but he was unable to escape. It didn't last long, but his skin was stinging by the time Tom stopped, simply laying his hand against Bill's skin and rubbing as though to soothe the injury he'd caused.

"Stay still," Tom ordered. "Or I'll do it again. Are you ready for me?"

Bill wriggled, not disobeying but pushing out his arse, knowing what Tom meant - was he ready for Tom to enter him? He was functioning on pure instinct now, driven past his first climax into a state of readiness he'd never experienced before. He'd had a stunning climax with his makeshift vibrator, but now Tom had returned and was subjugating him even more completely to desire.

"I...I don't care, just get on me," Bill begged, planting himself against the bedspread, arse presented in subservient eagerness.

Tom made a noise that could have been assent or thoughtfulness. He cupped Bill's rear cheeks in his hands, pushing up and out to spread him.

"Look at that," he murmured. "All glistening and pink and ready to fuck."

Bill was riveted in place; Tom had never talked dirty to him before. He quivered. He was hard again already, or maybe he had been ever since that last stiff set of smacks.

"You want me to fuck this?" Tom continued. "This is begging me to fuck it, louder than any screaming girl. Or, you want me to lick it?"

"Oh, fuck," Bill breathed, screwing his face up in a delighted grimace. If Tom wanted him to blow his load before he breached Bill with a single finger, he was off to a good start. His mouth shaped a fervent yes, but his breath had no strength to power it.

"Maybe later," Tom decided, running his thumbs up the crease of Bill's ass and lingering to either side of his entrance. "You've had your fun, haven't you? Now, it's my turn."

Bill cried out as Tom sank a finger into him without warning. He was still wet and open enough from playing with himself, and Tom's finger touched and curled inside him with a suddenness he hadn't been prepared to accept.

Tom played with him like that, working one finger, then two back and forth until Bill pushed his arse out in a silent offering for more. He teased him even beyond that, rubbing the hard, dripping head of his cock against Bill's tightly-drawn scrotum and up and down the crease of his ass before resting it against Bill's hole.

"Do it," Bill commanded, shivering.

"You're telling me what to do?" Tom said, his voice full of exaggerated surprise as he pulled his cock away from Bill's arse-crack. "After what you did?"

Bill pouted against the bedspread, but, of course, Tom couldn't see that. "Please?" he tried.

"Better," Tom said, and tapped his dick against Bill's entrance again. "You want me to put this in you, instead?"

"Yes, yes please," Bill said breathlessly, canting his hips back and forth to encourage Tom onward. He was so wound up he was ready to fly apart at the slightest touch, and he needed that deep stimulation inside him once more. "Tomi..."

Apparently satisfied, Tom pressed his cock against Bill's hole, rubbing the head there in small circles as he began to push inward.

They both groaned as Bill's body accepted him, and Tom was in him balls to butt before either of them quite realized.

"Oh," Bill gasped, frozen between the impulse to move and that fraction of time where something going _in_ instead of _out_ was only weird, not sexy.

Tom grabbed his hips as Bill moved to hitch away from him. "You're staying right here," he gritted.

Bill stayed put, possibly surprising Tom – definitely surprising himself. He began to pant again, angling his hips for more of that indescribable sensation, the satisfaction of being penetrated to such a depth.

"Fuck," Tom said, and began to pump his hips, going from embedded and barely moving to a top-notch fucking in the space of less than a heartbeat.

Bill could only mewl and try to keep up, smothering his cries against the bedspread and nearest pillow as he pistoned his hips back to meet Tom's demanding, uneven thrusts.

"Feels good?" Tom panted, but didn't pause for an answer as he drew his cock out and plunged it back in again with rapid, endless strokes that could go on forever, so far as Bill was concerned.

"Yes...yes!" Bill cried out anyhow, alight with the pleasure. He pressed his toes into the bed covers to brace himself, gripped handfuls of unraveling blanket, and moaned and bounced back to meet each pounding thrust that went through him like a vital pulse. His groin throbbed and his arse had its own equally urgent beat as Tom thrust into him to his own demanding pace. The thought that this was for Tom's pleasure, not his, made him gasp and cry out, tightening down on Tom's cock as though he were coming already. There was something incredibly submissive and amazing and _hot_ about that thought that engaged his pleasure centers as never before.

"Gonna...fuck you...'til...you come," Tom gasped out in time with his steady thrusts, giving Bill the wild impression that Tom was competing somehow with his earlier climax. Despite the assertion, Tom slowed and pulled out, caressing Bill's arse with both hands again.

Bill groaned low in his throat and tried to rub himself against the towel beneath him, reaching down with one hand for his aching cock.

"No," Tom snapped, smacking his flank. He scrambled toward the headboard, sprawling out with his long legs beside Bill. He fondled himself upright, licking at his lip ring as he stared Bill in the eye. "Sit on it." He reached not for Bill now but for the lube, spilling some into his palm and stroking it over his hard, red cock, flushed so deep it was almost a dusky plum color.

Bill was so frantic he didn't even make the faintest protest. He crawled up the bed, steadying himself on Tom's shoulders as he straddled his stomach, arse hovering above his crimsoned groin. As many times as they had done it over the past few months, somehow they'd never done it like this.

Uncertainty was a brief twinge in his stomach as he lowered himself, reaching for Tom's cock to line it up with his entrance. He got the tip settled against his hole and...sat.

"Ahhhh," the breath left him, lush as ripped silk.

Tom's eyes were open, locked on his. "Ride it," he murmured.

Bill's belly twinged again but it had nothing to do with jitters this time. He sat onto Tom's cock until he was spread fully, until he could take no more. From that point, he began to rock - gently at first, until he realized how much he could take. With increasingly anxious little moans and keens, he bounced on Tom's cock, gathering himself to sit up enough to feel the glide of it emerging before sitting back down. That gave him a rush of pleasure that went straight to his groin.

As Bill fucked himself on Tom's cock, Tom's hands smoothed and caressed at his thighs. He held eye contact all the while and Bill couldn't look away. He wanted to come, he wanted kisses, he wanted to milk Tom's cock for all it was worth. It speared up inside him at a particularly satisfying angle and he yelped, rolling into more languorous rocking movements as come began to flow from the tip of his dick.

Bill looked down, surprised and almost pouting. He wasn't ready to be done yet. Tom felt way too good in him. Nevertheless, he tightened down, given over entirely to the throes of his orgasm, and cried out as Tom began to pump up into him at his own pace.

They came almost together, one orgasm swept along by the other, and Bill sat forward on Tom's stomach, plastering himself along Tom's front to trade lazy kisses with him.

Tom swept Bill's hair back with a hand and nibbled at his lip before pushing his tongue in to claim Bill's mouth.

"Good," Bill murmured as Tom wrapped him up in his arm. He meant to say 'that was so good' but managing only the last, knowing he would be understood nonetheless.

Tom kissed his brow and said nothing.

After many heartbeats thrummed past and Tom said nothing, Bill shifted in his arms and tried to get a sense of Tom's expression.

"Are you mad?" he wanted to know, eyes glancing involuntarily toward the bundled up toothbrush.

"No," Tom said. "But I'm using _your_ toothbrush, later."

Bill made a noise in his throat that turned to a soft keen as Tom pushed his hips up; they were still joined and sensitive, so sensitive. "You don't mind that I did it?" he pressed. He wasn't seeking absolution so much as understanding.

"Bill, I don't care what you stick in your ass, so long as my cock doesn't have any other cocks competing for the honor," Tom told him, tweaking his nose.

That made Bill's cheeks heat up and he looked away. "You already know I don't care about anyone but you," he mumbled. "Do we have to _say_ it?" Tom was more to him than some object of lust, and the desire for _that_ had proved fleeting. What he had with Tom was far more powerful, and exclusive.

Tom shook his head, cupping Bill's cheeks in his hands and bringing them face to face. Their noses brushed, just barely. "I'm good with showing you as often as you need me to," he asserted, and rested their foreheads together.

Hands and lips joined, and they sealed their silent pact. Between the two of them, everything they were had always been so much more powerful than anything that could be put to the lyrics or music that shaped their lives.

+end+


End file.
